NURSE Why hide what honours thee? 'Tis all I claim! PHAEDRA Why, so I build up honour out of shame! NURSE Then speak, and higher still thy fame shall stand. PHAEDRA Go, in God's name!--Nay, leave me; loose my hand! NURSE Never, until thou grant me what I pray. PHAEDRA (_yielding, after a pause_) So be it. I dare not tear that hand away. NURSE (_rising and releasing PHAEDRA_) Tell all thou wilt, Daughter. I speak no more. PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_) Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore! NURSE What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide? PHAEDRA And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride! NURSE Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born? PHAEDRA And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn! NURSE (_to herself_) I am all lost and feared. What will she say? PHAEDRA From there my grief comes, not from yesterday. NURSE I come no nearer to thy parable. PHAEDRA Oh, would that thou could'st tell what I must tell! NURSE I am no seer in things I wot not of. PHAEDRA (_again hesitating_) What is it that they mean, who say men...love? NURSE A thing most sweet, my Child, yet dolorous. PHAEDRA Only the half, belike, hath fallen on us! NURSE (_starting_) On thee? Love?--Oh, what say'st thou? What man's son? PHAEDRA What man's? There was a Queen, an Amazon ... NURSE Hippolytus, say'st thou? PHAEDRA (_again wrapping her face in the veil_) Nay, 'twas thou, not I! [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers her face again. The_ NURSE _starts violently from her and walks up and down._] NURSE O God! what wilt thou say, Child? Wouldst thou try To kill me?--Oh, 'tis more than I can bear; Women. I will no more of it, this glare Of hated day, this shining of the sky. I will fling down my body, and let it lie Till life be gone! Women, God rest with you, My works are over! For the pure and true Are forced to evil, against their own heart's vow, And love it! [_She suddenly sees the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _and stands with her eyes riveted upon it._] Ah, Cyprian! No god art thou, But more than god, and greater, that hath thrust Me and my queen and all our house to dust! [_She throws herself on the ground close to the statue._] CHORUS _Some Women_ O Women, have ye heard? Nay, dare ye hear The desolate cry of the young Queen's misery? _A Woman_ My Queen, I love thee dear, Yet liefer were I dead than framed like thee. _Others_ Woe, woe to me for this thy bitter bane, Surely the food man feeds upon is pain!